Origin of Magic
by Winters of Despair
Summary: Foaly should know better than to leave suspicious computer files lying around. Now that Artemis has magic of his own, he's determined to find out more about it. By the time he comes and goes, the wizarding world will be left wondering what happened.
1. Prologue

**Origin of Magic**

**Prologue**

**By: Winters of Despair**

Artemis' pale skin glowed bleach white in the light of his computer. A triumphant grin crossed his face. He had spent hours searching. Now, he finally had the results he wanted. All it had taken was one careless person on an open blog post.

The secrets of the human magical world lay bare for him to see.

He had needed a keyword. He had been searching for information about humans and magic on Foaly's database when he came across an encrypted file. In order to enter, you needed to know what you were looking for. The problem: Artemis wasn't sure what he was looking for.

So he ran an internet search.

If the magical people were out there, surely they had to be familiar with technology, perhaps even more so than the average human being. (Artemis had deduced a long time ago that it was scientifically impossible for any being to be more technologically advanced than Foaly – except, perhaps, himself.) Humans were far from perfect. If there was a slip-up to be found about their community, it would be on the internet.

Three days, four hours and twenty-six minutes later, he came across a hit.

It was an old MySpace conversation. The conversation was supposed to be private, but Artemis had no trouble hacking into the host account. It was littered with all the keywords he had put in, plus some he hadn't.

In it, two teenagers from a school called Hogwarts were complaining about their summer homework. They discussed potions class with a Professor Snape and wondered when they'd be getting their apparition license. Apparently they would be doing more advanced forms of human transfiguration with Professor McGonagall and would be learning who-knows-what with Merlin knew _what_ kind of Defense teacher next year. At least they didn't have homework for that class.

It was a wonder that anyone had any kind of ambition to join the DMLE anymore, especially the auror division.

But didn't they know that Harry Potter wanted to be an auror? They'd probably let him straight in without having to go through the extra training.

On the other hand, he and Dumbledore were crazy. The Daily Prophet said so.

Artemis had unearthed a gold mine of information. Foaly's files were now open access to him.

---

Butler headed up the stairs after listening to the disjointed hum of the large printer for more than five consecutive minutes. Artemis printed things out for other people's convenience, namely his own.

His charge was planning something big again. Butler figured that it wouldn't be too out of line for him to remind Artemis that he had promised to drop the percentage of criminal business he delved in to.

He should also probably mention the family vacation to the Caribbean Islands that was coming up in two days. If Artemis wanted to go somewhere, it was going to have to wait three weeks.


	2. Chapter 1

**Origin of Magic**

**Chapter 1**

**By: Winters of Despair**

"Arty, why don't you come outside with your dad and I?"

Artemis looked up from his notes. "I spent the entire morning and better half of the afternoon outdoors mother. I don't think I can handle any more sun."

Angeline Fowl surveyed her son's pale skin with a slight frown. He had gotten some color on his skin during their stay in the Caribbean Islands, but he was always so careful. He hadn't once gotten burnt, not even on his nose. "Just for a while Arty?" she pleaded. "It's our last day. Spend a little more time with your parents before we go home and everyone has to start working again."

Artemis sighed and put his pen down. He never could say no to his mother when she got like this. "Alright, I suppose the twins need someone to make sure they won't get into too much trouble."

Angeline beamed. "Make sure you stay in the sun Arty. If you don't come home with so much as a slight tan, people will wonder whether you're a vampire," she joked.

Artemis cracked a small, genuine smile at that. His mother didn't know how many times he had been accused of being one of said magical creatures.

Besides, after his research on the new magical world he discovered, Artemis thought he probably had too much fairy magic in him to be a vampire.

Light shone through the office windows as clearly as it did outside. A slightly less-pale-than-normal teenager sat in front of his computer screen, staring at it accusingly.

On the other end, Foaly cleared his throat nervously.

Artemis arched his brows. "Well?"

"It slipped my mind?"

"A file of that size, containing that much information does not suddenly 'slip one's mind' when they get involved with humans who know about magic. The information was kept from me," Artemis stated simply. "I know why. If I were you, I'd keep the information from me too."

Foaly breathed a sigh of relief. "So why did you call?"

"I want in," he declared.

"In?"

"Their community. Their world. Their school, preferably, if it is indeed possible."

"It's not," Foaly responded immediately. "You have no magic of your own. Maybe trace amounts of it, if the stories Holly tells are true."

For the first time, Artemis felt himself squirm slightly in his seat. "Ah, about that."

"What?" The centaur's eyes narrowed. "What have you done now Mud Boy?"

Artemis held up an acorn for his friend to see. "I may not have lost as much magic as I thought."

"Thought?"

"Pretended," he amended.

Foaly groaned. "The commander is not going to like this."

Artemis would have offered an apology, but something told him that it wouldn't be well received in this situation. So he wisely kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Foaly almost couldn't believe the number of strings he was about to pull for Fowl. Almost. The problem was (no matter how he hated to admit it) Artemis was their best bet for any _drastic_ surface-side missions that needed to be accomplished. If it hadn't been for him, the People would have been discovered by humans three years ago. Aside from the fact that Artemis hadn't demanded any recompense for saving the entire demon race – a feat that had, consequently, taken two years of his time on Earth away from him – the People owed the boy genius.

And Foaly planned to take full advantage of that fact when he stepped into the meeting he was headed for right now.

He grimaced, hesitating before opening the door. He wasn't going to lie. Not really. He was simply going to omit more truths than a person normally did when informing others of a situation. Of course, if he twisted his words a little as well no one would ever notice.

His peripheral vision informed him that Commander Vinyáya was coming down the hallway to his left, headed to the same conference room he was. Foaly let himself in, glad that nobody had arrived before he had. He could feel his morals crumbling, and with them, his sense of security. Why was he doing this again?

Oh right. It was all for the People. Commander Root had been very adamant about that and Holly had faithfully followed in his footsteps. Now it was his turn to see if he could handle stepping closer to the line than he ever had before in order to keep the People safe.

For the sake of his sanity, he _was not _doing this because Artemis was the only one above or below ground who understood him when he wanted to talk science. Because for those three years he had definitely _not _missedthe Mud Boy's absence. And he positively _could not _be thinking about collaborating with him on a new technology project he had been considering for some time…

He wondered how much Artemis would want to be paid.

Foaly shook his head as Vinyáya entered the room and greeted him. For the People, he thought. These magic-wielders were dangerous and needed to be investigated. Yes, he could use that. His eyes narrowed at the thought of his cousins, forced to live in a dark forest because of the ignorance of Mud People, magical or otherwise.

All of a sudden, he found he didn't need to convince himself. He knew that no matter what, he really was doing this for the People.

When the last person entered the conference room, Foaly finally felt prepared to face the leaders of Section Eight with his story.

* * *

Magic, Artemis decided – not for the first time – was truly a wonderful thing. It kept his parents from calling the family doctor after ever trip they took… or every other week for that matter.

Naturally, it was entirely Beckett's fault.

As the most 'normal' child of the Fowl household, the toddler seemed to have taken it upon himself to overcompensate for all the trouble Myles never caused and all the racket Artemis had never made. Artemis quickly learned to keep a close eye on his brother whenever they returned home because more likely than not –

CRASH.

He reached the corner he had seen Beckett disappear around to find the boy planted face-first in the carpet. He had run into a small standing table that had moments previously held an expensive Italian vase which now lay broken in seven cleanly snapped pieces beside him. Artemis surmised that the vase must have hit the wall before it found its way to the carpet, or else the piece of art would have probably come out unscathed.

Beckett however, was an entirely different matter. There was a rather large but shallow gash on his forehead where he had collided with the table and presumably because of this, he had begun to wail loudly. It didn't take Artemis very long to reach him, pick him up, and set him gently back down on the floor in a proper sitting position so he could better inspect his forehead.

He would be lying if he said he was surprised when Beckett cradled his arm to his chest, as though he had hurt that as well. Sighing, Artemis decided to focus on the surface wound first. He pulled a band-aid out of his pocket (kept there for situations such as these) and unwrapped it. Beckett continued to wail.

He calmed down marginally when Artemis placed a hand over his forehead. "Where does it hurt?" Artemis asked gently.

"M-My head," Beckett choked through tears, " 'n my wrist."

Artemis discreetly made sure that no one had come to find them yet before releasing a spurt of blue sparks that healed most of the large wound. He placed the band-aid over the small cut that was left (unfortunately, if he had healed it all, the situation would be suspicious). He then took Beckett's wrist in his hand and scanned the injury with magic to diagnose the damage. It was a sprain. Now, how to heal it without his brother noticing…?

Thankful that Beckett had stopped screaming his lungs out; Artemis opened his arms, waiting for Beckett to do the same so he could lift him up. He placed the sprained wrist over his shoulder and behind his back, infusing it with healing magic when Beckett could no longer see his arm.

With his brother still clinging to his back, Artemis wrapped his arms around the small body comfortingly. "You probably just landed on it wrong," he said. "It should feel better in no time at all."

Beckett sniffled. "R-really?"

Artemis nodded. Comforting people was an entirely new experience to him, but he had decided to take Holly's advice and simply do what came naturally to him. It seemed easier though, when he was trying to help his brothers.

"Son?"

To his credit, Artemis didn't so much as freeze for even a second. Confident that his father hadn't seen anything, he turned around. "Yes father?"

Artemis Sr.'s eyes scanned the hallway, taking in the out of place details. "What happened?"

"Beckett ran into the table and injured his forehead. He says his wrist hurts as well, but I think it will be fine shortly."

Beckett held his arms out to their dad and Artemis Sr. walked over to take him out of Artemis' hands. "So much energy," he chuckled, patting down Beckett's hair. Beckett, having calmed down, leaned into his chest. "Are you all out of tears now?"

_"Don't cry, son. Tears are a sign of weakness, and the Fowl's are not a family of weaklings."_

_He blinked, trying desperately to curb the flow of water falling from his eyes. "Yes father."_

_"One day you will carry the pride of the Fowl family on your shoulders. There are those who would try to make you fall under that pressure and they will use your weaknesses against you to do so. Don't forget that."_

Artemis gave no outward indication that he had suddenly recalled a memory.

His father looked at him. "Do you always carry these around?" he motioned to the band-aid.

A small smile tugged at Artemis' lips. "Only for Beckett."

A much larger grin than his own appeared on his father's face. He pinched Beckett's nose. "You little troublemaker." Beckett made a face.

"Shall we head down for lunch?" Artemis suggested.

"Certainly."

Artemis fell into step beside his father, silently giving himself a mental once-over. The migraines that used to come with his use of magic had recently stopped appearing, along with the nausea that told him he had entered someone's home uninvited. He concluded that his brain had almost completely finished assimilating the magic power he now possessed.

The next full moon wasn't for another week. If he didn't get so much as a twinge of a headache with all those voices running around in his mind, he would consider himself entirely magical. Then, with a little imagination and a freshly picked acorn, he would _really_ see what he could do.

Lost in his musings, Artemis didn't notice his father steal a glance at his hands, when not so long ago he could have sworn he saw blue sparks dancing around them, carefully targeting Beckett's wrist.

* * *

"What did you call us here for Foaly?"

Foaly cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have just encountered a unique opportunity."

Commander Vinyáya looked to be the most interested fairy there. "Go on."

"This regards one of Section Eight's side venues: Human magicians."

All of a sudden, _everyone _seemed interested.

Belle, a sprite, and the head of said sub-division of Section Eight leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me you've found a way to gather more intel on these Mud People."

Foaly paused. "After a fashion, the methodology is somewhat… controversial however."

"How controversial?"

"Artemis Fowl controversial."

Belle frowned. "As in proportionate to size kind of controversial, or as in 'Artemis Fowl is involved' kind of controversial?"

Foaly looked at her. "Is there really a difference?"

To everyone's surprise, Belle grinned. "Excellent."

"How's that?" Moss, one of Belle's subordinates (a generally bad tempered elf) wanted to know.

"If the Mud Boy is half as smart as I keep hearing he is," Belle explained, "he'll make the perfect spy. What better way of information gathering has ever been invented?"

"Technology," Foaly muttered under his breath. The fact that his computers were still unable to scan the layout of numerous magical schools around the world miffed him to no end. He didn't complain about it right now though, because everyone seemed to be considering the idea.

"I see no problem with the idea," Vinyáya stated, "except for this: How do we get Fowl into a school? He has no magic of his own."

Belle spoke up. "I believe there are some kinds of humans called squids – "

"Squibs," Moss grunted.

"Squibs, right, who are largely incapable of performing magic. It wouldn't be too difficult to pass Fowl off as one of them. Some schools have special programs for such humans."

"Actually," Foaly said, "I believe that Artemis has already found a remedy for this situation. In fact, the reason why I originally called this meeting was because of this… remedy."

"Oh?"

"It would seem, as Artemis and Holly took their trip to Hybras a few months ago, Artemis figured out how to steal something quite extraordinary."

"Moonstone?" someone guessed sarcastically. Foaly figured it was probably a dwarf.

"No," he replied, very much serious. This is what it all came down to. "Magic."

There was stunned silence. Moments ticked by, painfully slow. Foaly swished his tail nervously. If this wasn't accepted they'd probably call for another mind wipe and he _knew_ he couldn't do that again. He could pretend, certainly, and maybe Artemis would agree to pass himself off as a psychic. He'd be one of the best, no doubt about it.

Commander Vinyáya broke the tension by laughing. It started out as a slow chuckle before it quickly developed into genuine laughter. "Remind me to never doubt your intelligence again. You get us all used to the idea of sending Artemis Fowl off to the wizarding world and _then _you drop the bombshell. I still think it's a good idea. What about you Belle? It's your call."

Belle blinked then nodded slowly. "Of – of course. It's just a little overwhelming, that's all." Then a smile spread across her face. "Does that mean he gets to report back to me?"

Foaly exchanged a look with Vinyáya. It was a thought he had never considered before. Employ Artemis Fowl? Preposterous. Except they would constantly be able to have him on hand, and there were those theories he _really _wanted to discuss with him… Not to mention it would be easier to keep him out of trouble.

Vinyáya may not have been able to read his mind, but it was clear that her thoughts were on a similar track. "Section Eight is the best kept secret of the LEP," she stated. "No one would even have to know."

"It's brilliant," Foaly said.

Belle beamed. "Does this mean it's a done deal?" Foaly decided it was a good thing that Belle was in charge of the magic human division. Others would not be so excited to meet Artemis Fowl. A few fairies still held a grudge against him from the time he kidnapped Holly, conveniently overlooking all he had done for them since.

"Yes," he agreed. "It's a done deal."

It was at that moment Holly Short walked into the meeting. "Sorry I'm late. I ran into some demons who had a bunch of questions."

Foaly's tail flicked once. He had forgotten that he would have to tell Holly about Artemis as well.

* * *

Lunch at the Fowl manner was a relatively normal affair. Myles used his new favorite word to describe his brother (simple-toon) and Beckett pouted about it and generally sulked for the fact that he believed his brother wasn't sympathizing with him as he ought.

Artemis listened to his parents discuss their vacation and added to the conversation when it was necessary. Normally he would have made a larger effort to include himself in his family life, but for now he had regressed to his usual, distant conversational habits. He was busy thinking about human magic, and whether or not Foaly had managed to convince someone important to integrate him into wizarding society.

His gaze drifted to the blank wall a few times, so it was no surprise that he missed the worried looks his parents shared with each other.

"Arty," Angeline finally said, "are you okay?"

"Hm," Artemis commented absently, then mentally kicked himself when he registered what his mother had said. "Oh, yes Mother, I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure? You look a bit tired."

"It's probably just jet lag Mother. Nothing to worry about."

She frowned in concern. "Maybe we should rest. I think we're all a little off from our long trip."

"Sleeping now would most likely interrupt my sleep pattern," Artemis said. "I prefer to wait until the usual time."

"A few extra hours of sleep never hurt anyone," his father pointed out.

"Be that as it may," Artemis mused, leaving his sentence unfinished. He stood. "Excuse me. I have to call someone."

"Who?" Angeline was curious.

"A friend," Artemis called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

"A friend from school?" she wondered to her husband. "He never mentioned one before."

Artemis Sr.'s face was pensive. "I don't know dearest. But I think I'm going to find out."

Angeline caught his hand as he made to get up. "Art, are you sure? Maybe… maybe we had better leave him alone this time."

"Angeline," he sighed. "I have not been the best of fathers for Artemis. And although I cannot turn back time, I can do my best to undo the damage I have caused. He needs to know that I will always be here for him; now, and for however long I live. I should go speak with him."

She smiled fondly at him. "I understand. Go bond with your son." She turned him around and almost literally pushed him into the hallway, but not before Artemis Sr. stole a kiss.

"Thief!" she exclaimed, mock-scandalized.

He winked. "Only the best."

Laughter rang through the manor.

Beckett scrunched up his nose. "That's icky."

"It's more disgusting-er than a bath," Myles observed.

Beckett nodded solemnly in agreement.


	3. Chapter 2

**Origin of Magic**

**Chapter 2**

**By: Winters of Despair**

Fowl Manor was like a modern-day castle. It had all the security, all the technology and all the beauty and refinement a castle needed to be a castle.

What it also had, Artemis Sr. mourned slightly as he tried to follow his son, was a lot of room to get lost in. He had lost Arty after he saw him turn the first corner. Though he was used to his prosthetic limb, he still couldn't move as fast as he used to be able to. And there were just so many different corridors to go down and empty rooms that could be used he had no idea where his son had disappeared to.

Then there were the two hidden passageways as well, and he wouldn't put it past Artemis to know where those were located.

Instead of turning toward Artemis' room, like a normal father would have done perhaps, he sought out the office Artemis had claimed for his own uses. He was much more likely to find his son there than anywhere else, especially when he got into one of his moods.

They had been getting better as a family, Artemis Sr. thought. He and his wife worked on their relationship every day, and they cared for the twins with a healthy enthusiasm. Their firstborn was never around as much as they would have liked, but Artemis seemed to enjoy the time he spent with his family as well.

It was at times like today however, that Artemis Sr. wondered about his progress with his son. Sometimes Artemis would just shut them out for a period of time, finding excuses to be alone. And though Artemis Sr. would love to be able to know that Artemis did have some form of a recreational relationship with a person (or several), the fact of the matter was his son had never mentioned any of his friends before.

He didn't think the one time he had caught Artemis blushing slightly over something Butler told him a Minerva had said quite counted.

The door to Artemis' study had been left slightly open, and Artemis Sr. was going to push it open the rest of the way when he registered the sound of voices.

The head of the Fowl household had never been one to eavesdrop on his family, but he would later confess to Angeline that he couldn't help himself, not when he caught the words Artemis was speaking.

"Are details becoming too expensive to share over illegal internet connections?"

Artemis Sr. froze at the door, and listened.

* * *

Artemis reached his study just in time to see his laptop flash a message on its screen.

_Call Pending_

_Caller: Foaly_

_Accept – Decline_

He seated himself in the comfortable office chair and pressed the _Accept _button with no small amount of anticipation. Foaly's face appeared on the screen moments after. Some of the technology the centaur created for Section Eight filled the background.

"Foaly," he greeted, "perfect timing."

"For you maybe," the centaur sulked, "this is the third time I've called today. I was ready to give up and just leave a message."

"Surely you know I've only been home for an hour and a half."

"What were you _doing_ for that hour and a half?"

"I was downstairs, with my family. It is afternoon, we were having lunch."

"For an hour and a half? And it's three-thirty where you're at now."

"Beckett ran into some trouble beforehand that needed to be taken care of. It's twelve-thirty where you're at, you're point is?"

"It's proper lunchtime here," Foaly said, emphasizing his point by waving a carrot stick in the screen. "I would have thought you had eaten on the plane trip back."

"Eating on planes never agreed with Mother," Artemis replied. "How is this relevant to your call?"

"Can't a centaur ask a friend a few questions?" Foaly said, looking hurt.

"Foaly," Artemis sighed.

"Alright, alright, jeeze. I am so unappreciated. Anyway, I finally got that meeting together a few days ago, and long story short, you're in."

"Long story short? Are details becoming too expensive to share over illegal internet connections?"

Foaly took a bite out of his carrot before inhaling the rest of it. "Are you kidding? With the amount of money I'm getting paid now? I could keep this link going for the next thirty years, if not longer. Hey, did you know I'm getting a pay raise next Friday?"

"Yes, actually."

"Spoilsport. Holly's on her way to fill you in about the details, and probably give you a good verbal thrashing as well. She's a little upset that you never told her about your magic."

Artemis felt like wincing, but refrained from doing so. He couldn't say for sure that the trashing would be confined to mere words.

"I can talk to you via her helmet, which is cheaper by the way, so in a way you're right. It _is _somewhat about the money. Section Eight may have the best of everything, but we don't like to spend needlessly. This call is coming out of my own pocket."

Artemis sat up a little straighter, sensing the beginnings of a stimulating challenge. "What did you want to discuss?"

Foaly inhaled another carrot. "How would you like to put that brain of yours to work and help me develop new technology?"

"That depends," Artemis said, pretending disinterest. "I don't work well without the proper motivation."

Foaly reached for his keyboard and tapped a few buttons. A box popped up on Artemis' computer screen. "I can pay you this much," Foaly offered. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he watched a slow grin spread across Artemis' face.

"What kind of technology?" the teenager wanted to know.

* * *

Artemis Sr. stepped away from his son's door. He wasn't certain, but it sounded like Artemis was involved with the government. He had never heard of Section Eight before; but from the looks of things it was top secret.

Somehow he wasn't surprised.

He decided he would leave his son alone for now, because whatever he was discussing, Artemis Sr. probably shouldn't know about it. And if Holly came over— whoever she was— maybe Artemis would tell him what was going on.

He again thought about Artemis' glowing hand and the conversation he had just overheard. One of the first things he would ask about was this magic business.

He wanted Artemis to stop hiding things from him; but he wouldn't get any information if he tried to force the matter. Artemis Sr. would be patient.

But he wouldn't wait too long. He would never make that mistake again.

* * *

Holly shielded as her Dragonfly wings lifted her from the surface of the earth. She shot up into the sky, not as fast as a proverbial rocket, but fast enough to set off warning sensors in her helmet. The sensors told her that procedure dictated takeoffs were supposed to be gradual and controlled.

Naturally, she ignored them.

Holly was an incredibly miffed fairy. When Foaly shared with her that Artemis still had the magic he stole, the magic he had supposedly 'lost' after their journey to Hybras, she had stared at him a while before turning around and walking straight out of the room.

It hadn't been fair to her centaur friend. She had left him fretting about what kind of crazy thing she was going out to do. Fortunately she had enough sense to find a quiet room and calm down some before she rushed to the surface to knock some sense into Artemis' head.

Okay, so the Mud Boy had lied again. That was nothing new, so why was she so upset?

But, Holly reflected, weren't they supposed to be friends? Didn't friends trust each other with secrets, no matter how crazy and outlandish they were? It wasn't as though she didn't already know he had magic. Heck, if he hadn't stolen some to begin with then they might not even be here to argue about it now.

How was it, she wondered, that it was getting harder and harder for her to stay truly mad at him?

Yet she needed to know. So she returned to Foaly and demanded to get proper clearance for an above-ground operation. Foaly had seemed extremely relieved and proceeded to fill her in on the rest of the details.

She lazily looped a few times through the air. It was a fun, but tricky maneuver that set her sensors off again. Foaly's agitated face appeared in her vision.

"Holly," he said in a pained voice, "do you mind stopping whatever it is you're doing? Every time your sensors go off, mine are alerted too; and I'm trying to concentrate at the moment."

"It's not my fault we didn't have time to calibrate these wings to understand my flight patterns," she said unsympathetically. "What are you concentrating on?"

"You know how I mentioned everyone at the meeting didn't seem averse to hiring Artemis?"

"Yeah?"

"Well some members of Belle's division aren't exactly thrilled about it."

"Huh, now why am I not surprised?"

"Maybe because they still view Artemis as an amoral, fairy-kidnapping, gold-stealing, trouble-making Mud Boy? Either way," he sighed in an attempt to release some of his tension, "I've got people popping in my office every five minutes. Most of them seem to think I'm deaf or something, because they keep shouting their complaints in my ear." He rubbed said appendage. "Now I'm a fairly tolerant centaur, but it's really starting to wear on my humor."

"Shouldn't they be complaining to Belle?"

Foaly grinned wryly. "If Belle decides she doesn't want to hear something, she doesn't hear it. That sprite has astounding selective hearing; and she's quite taken with the idea of having Artemis work for her."

She contemplated that thought for a moment. "What about Moss?"

"What about him?" Foaly shrugged. "He'll follow Belle wherever she goes. It's quite obvious he's fond of her, even if Belle's the only one who hasn't noticed yet."

"He hasn't exactly done anything about it," she pointed out.

"True, but Belle is just about as oblivious to love as a troll."

"Huh," Holly commented. At least Artemis would have a few friendly faces in his division. She never once doubted that he would want to take them up on their offer.

When another fairy stormed into Foaly's office she cut their connection, wincing at how loud the pixie's voice was.

* * *

When Holly arrived, Artemis was carefully sketching something out on a planning desk. If she had cared to look, she might have noticed that it was the beginnings of a technological design. Instead she used her open invitation to deftly maneuver through the open window and smack Artemis over the head.

His hand jerked and he scowled at the out of place line on his paper before turning to the haze that was Holly. "Hello to you too."

Holly switched her shield off and opened her visor so they could properly see each other. She crossed her arms. "Artemis I can't believe you. You kept your magic all this time and you never bothered to tell me?"

"It was necessary," Artemis responded. "I highly doubt Commander Sool would have allowed me to walk around as freely as I do now without trying to remove it somehow."

"I _can_ keep secrets you know," her tone was offended. "Following orders of authority figures has never exactly been my top priority. Did you really think I would turn you over to Sool?"

"Of course not, but it's easier to keep secrets when you don't know about them," he said in a very matter-of-fact way.

"What about now, then?" she demanded. "You know I work for Section Eight now. Or even before, after I quit the LEP? What kept you from telling me then?"

Artemis was silent.

"Aren't we friends?" Holly's eyes glimmered with hurt. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course," he said quickly. "I just…" he trailed off, feeling thrown off balance by her sudden display of emotion.

"Just what?"

"I – I'm sorry, okay?" Frond, was he stuttering? "I didn't know it would make you so upset."

Holly visibly calmed down, knowing how difficult apologies were for Artemis. "Magic is a precious gift," she informed him, "and an incredibly volatile one. It's dangerous to learn by yourself. I was worried," she admitted, ignoring the slight blush that crept up on her cheeks at her statement. Heaven forbid Artemis' ego should grow any more because of her.

Artemis floundered a little. "Oh, um, thank you." _Um?_ Now his grammar had thrown itself out the window. Great.

They both refused to meet each other's eyes, preferring to stare at opposite walls while the tension grew between them.

Foaly punctured it by reestablishing a connection to Holly's helmet. "Well, now that that's out of the way," he said cheerfully.

"Right," Holly said as both she and Artemis relaxed.

"A rather unique situation has come up because of your request," Foaly continued. "As you probably already know," he playfully glared at Artemis even though he knew he couldn't see him, "Section Eight does more than specialize in demonology. We have a special division for magical humans as well." He paused for dramatic effect. "Artemis, what would you say to becoming an official employee of Section Eight?"

Artemis pretended to think. "And actually get paid for saving the world every once-in-a-while? Not a bad idea, but I can't spend all my time underground Foaly. My parents would get suspicious. It's already difficult enough convincing them to forget about those years I went missing." He abruptly stopped talking, but Holly had already caught on.

"You mesmerized your own parents?" she asked in a scandalized tone.

"What else was I supposed to do? I can't tell them about you."

She looked torn: indignant on behalf of Artemis' actions, but understanding on behalf of the People. "But, they're your parents…"

"I'm afraid Artemis is right Holly," Foaly said sensibly. "No one can know about us if we can help it."

Still conflicted, she decided to say nothing.

"That shouldn't be too much of a problem," Foaly said to Artemis. "You'll be the official liaison to the human's magical society – if we ever decide to make contact with them of course – so you'll still spend most of your time above-ground. Of course you'll have to meet your supervisor, Belle, and the people you'll work with, even if some of them hate you."

"There's no such thing as a perfect job," Artemis muttered under his breath.

"Indeed not," said Foaly, delightfully lording over the fact that his microphones were good enough to pick up Artemis' quiet words, "But if that ain't life for you, I couldn't tell you what to expect."

"Very well, I shall think of something to tell my parents. I'll need to if I plan on going away to a magical boarding school for most of the year."

"Artemis doesn't have to hide the fact that he's going to a human magic school, does he?" Holly asked Foaly. "I'm sure he can think up some excuse for why he wasn't enrolled in the usual fashion, but maybe he doesn't have to keep his parents entirely out of the loop."

Foaly looked thoughtful. "That's a good point. Artemis shouldn't have to keep his human magic business from his family."

"I'll think about it," Artemis said.

"You shouldn't lie to them," Holly pointed out.

Artemis remembered the conversation they had just had a few minutes ago. Maybe Holly was right. He couldn't just disappear again without an explanation. It would cause his parents more heartache than they deserved. "I'll think about it," he repeated, really meaning it this time.

* * *

Dumbledore frowned at the pile of paperwork stacked on his desk. He had just come back from a meeting with the minister. Cornelius Fudge was rather cowardly and incompetent, but he did do parts of his job well.

They had their usual start of summer discussion; and (as usual) they talked about next years' defense professor.

Fudge had been enraged about the fake Professor Moody, going so far as to blame Dumbledore for the whole thing. Shouldn't the headmaster keep a better eye on who he hired? He was Albus Dumbledore for Merlin's sake. No low-life Death Eater should even be able to _contemplate _breaking into Hogwarts.

Dumbledore got the funny feeling that wouldn't be the only thing he got blamed for this summer.

He was having more trouble than usual filling the seat of defense professor. He would have approached Remus again, but he knew the man would refuse. He was needed in the Order to rally the werewolves anyway.

Not for the first time he wondered if he shouldn't look into the curse that had plagued the position for years. Originally he had let it lie, knowing that it added to the mystique of the school. Some wizards responded better to a challenge, and he had always managed to rope in a curious soul to teach every year. It had certainly been an adventure at least.

This year Fudge had threatened ministry action. Since Dumbledore seemed incompetent at choosing his own staff, he would appoint a ministry-approved official to teach the class. Dumbledore shuddered to think how 'ministry-approved' curriculum would hamper his students' educational development. Fudge had become suspicious of him as late, getting ideas from the Daily Prophet that Albus wanted his seat as minister.

Preposterous. Why would he want all of that responsibility?

Dumbledore hoped for a quiet year. He hoped for a good defense teacher and well-behaved students. Of course, he knew the latter was difficult to come by, but had he known what kind of trouble one new student would bring to his school the following year, he might have been sitting at his desk, contemplating retirement.


	4. Chapter 3

**Origin of Magic**

**Chapter 3**

**By: Winters of Despair**

Had Artemis been a normal teenager by any definition of the word he would have spent the day entirely unfocused and absentminded. His mind was too sharp for that, he knew, but it didn't stop him from feeling the anticipation all day long.

Tonight was the night of the full moon.

Artemis had _plans _for tonight. The great commune of magical creatures was as much of a bard's tale as anything that had ever been associated with a bard; and one of the most common things associated with the old profession of storytelling was music.

Half an hour before moonrise Artemis made his way down to the music room, glad it wasn't particularly close to any of the bedrooms. He wanted to play for as long as the moon was up. It would be a test in endurance certainly, but he never slept on these nights anyway. And instead of trying to block out all of the voices swimming in his head, this time he wanted to flow with them. Playing instruments had a wonderful way of floating him away to a higher plane. Long before Artemis had ever learnt of the People's existence, some part of him instinctively knew that music was a kind of… raw magic.

He ignored a majority of the collection of instruments in the music room (though he could play most of them), heading straight for the well-tuned Steinway grand piano. He lifted the lid and performed a few warm-ups, starting with the simple ones before gradually building in intricacy.

He stopped, hands hovering in place as he waited. When the first voices began to resonate in his mind he gently pressed down on the keys, starting the first chord of many that were to follow in a symphony of magic.

* * *

Artemis Sr. was tired. The novel he had been reading was engrossing. He blinked at the wall clock of the sitting room to find he had stayed up longer than he originally intended, though he could pass that off to the mystery he was reading.

He marked his page and set the book aside on a small table, yawning as he stood up. He flipped the light switch off, pausing a moment to stare out the window. Moonlight drifted down on the Fowl grounds, bathing everything it touched in silver light. It was reminiscent of a scene he had just read about in his book.

A soft tune reached his ears while he walked through the hallways of the manor. He chuckled softly. His imagination was working in overdrive tonight it seemed. Music was a key part of the mystery novel as well, although the song he was hearing wasn't the same he'd been recently reading about. It was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, he mused, the third movement.

He stopped at a cross between hallways. His room was straight ahead a few doors, but the music room was some distance down his left; and he had just realized that the piano music he was hearing wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Curious, he turned away from his room and treaded down the left hallway. His son (for he realized it must be him) was up at this late hour playing music. It reminded him that he hadn't heard Artemis play in years so he decided to take the opportunity that was offered to him. A smile tugged at his lips as he gauged how much Artemis had improved.

The door to the music room was open, and the music easily audible. When Artemis Sr. stood in the doorway though, he found something he did not expect to see.

As might have been predicted, Artemis was dressed as though he planned on performing for an important audience. His suit and bow-tie were perfectly set and a polished right shoe tapped on the pedal when the occasion called for it.

All of this might have been considered normal were it not for the energy that visibly snapped in the air. Little blue sparks, similar to the ones he thought he had seen Artemis produce on occasion, floated freely through the room. They swirled and danced in time with the music, leaving impressions of intricate designs in their wake.

A stray spark made its way over to his arm. It connected and flickered out, but he was surprised to note that the sensation he had felt was not unpleasant. It tingled a little in a good way, and it left him feeling warm.

Artemis Sr. had suspected it for some time; but now he was absolutely certain that his son had some kind of special gift. What else could possibly explain what was going on in front of his eyes? He stepped further into the room, feeling comfortable with the gentle embrace the blue sparks welcomed him with. He stood there through the next five songs. When it was clear that Artemis had neither noticed him nor planned on stopping any time soon he stepped back out again.

Strangely he felt a bit more energized, in both body and mind. But perhaps it was not that odd, he thought while slipping into bed beside a sleeping Angeline. All the same, this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. Perhaps he and his son could use this to get around the roadblocks in their relationship. He would talk to Artemis tomorrow.

* * *

The final note of Claire De Lune lingered in the room as the moon went down again and the voices faded from Artemis' head. It was probably somewhere around five-thirty in the morning, but somehow Artemis couldn't bring himself to care.

His back felt stiff from sitting so straight for hours on end, but as soon as he paid it thought his magic swept the discomfort away. He didn't _feel _tired; in fact, if anything, he felt less tired than when he'd begun. It was a nice contrast from the draining sleepless nights he had spent previously on the full moon.

Not seeing an immediate need to retire to his bed, Artemis instead decided to change out of his formal wear into something more casual. Since he was due to perform the ritual he took a carefully preserved acorn from its hiding place in his room to plant in the east rose garden. He would put it right where his mother had always talked about planting an oak tree: in the very center. If it took to the soil and grew well, he would let her think it was a happy coincidence.

The cool night air felt refreshing on Artemis' skin. He realized that he hadn't so much as gotten a twinge of a headache through the night and grinned. He would consult the Book later and try out some spells.

* * *

"Son," Artemis Sr. said by way of greeting when he walked into the kitchen. For all his lectures on becoming more of a family he wondered why it was so hard for him to drop the formalities around his firstborn.

"Good morning father," Artemis said, sipping his tea. He had an absent expression on his face, Artemis Sr. noticed. The kind that said he was miles away while his brain whirred at several hundred kilometers a minute.

Artemis Sr. sat down at the table, casually reaching for the paper Butler must have brought in first thing this morning. "I heard you playing last night."

"Oh?" Artemis came back down to earth, focusing in on their conversation.

"You have improved."

"I had a lot of time to practice."

There it was, the thing that lurked in the background hindering their relationship: Artemis Sr.'s disappearance.

The older man pushed the subject to the side of his mind for the time being. It was something that would bring itself up when the time was right. Currently he was dealing with more pressing issues. "I watched you for a while you know. I don't think you noticed me."

"You did?"

Artemis Sr. nodded. "That was some light show," he remarked off-handedly.

Artemis' forehead creased with confusion. "Light show? I don't know what – "

"Blue sparks Artemis," he interrupted, "floating all over the room because of your music. I don't pretend to know what's going on," he continued as Artemis moved to speak, "although I have suspected for some time that you did have some special sort of gift. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about it and I'll listen. I'll _always _be ready to listen."

They sat in silence for some time after that. Artemis Sr. flipped open the newspaper and pretended to read while his son thought. Butler came in with breakfast and unobtrusively sat two plates on the table. The manservant's eyes flitted back and forth between father and son, but he said nothing. Over the top of his paper, the head of the Fowl household saw Artemis nod toward Butler. The man left without a word and Artemis Sr. wouldn't have put it past him to know that the family members needed some time alone.

The omelets were delicious, as always. This detail was left unremarked upon in lieu of the bubble of silence that seemed to encompass the kitchen table. Twenty minutes passed without a word. Plates were emptied and taken away. Artemis Sr. turned the page of the paper he had 'returned to reading' (how could he read with so much on his mind?) and birds chirped somewhere beyond the boundary of the manor's walls.

Artemis took his first plunge only when Angeline joined them. Not sensing anything amiss, she entered the room with a cheerful demeanor, wishing them both a good morning and remarking on the fact that the twins were still asleep. She sat next to her husband, settling into a comfortable silence while pouring herself some tea.

"I didn't know what to make of it at first," Artemis said, mostly speaking to his father. It was clear he didn't mind his mother's presence though or else he wouldn't have said anything at all.

Artemis Sr. lowered his paper, ignoring the ads his eyes had only been glossing over.

"It started out as the smallest of things: a paper cut. It wasn't a big deal at the time, but it became one when the wound sealed itself up with a small flash of blue light." Artemis settled back in his chair some, having become more comfortable with the idea of sharing this with them… or so Fowl Sr. assumed. Something was a little off about the situation though. He examined his son's face and found… nothing. No anxiety, not even resignation. They could have been discussing the weather for all Artemis' body language portrayed.

Next to him, Angeline was paying attention to Artemis too. She didn't know what was going on, but her maternal instincts told her to wait it out. So she did.

"Butler and I did some research. It took a while and we only recently obtained results, but what we found stands as solid fact."

"Butler knows about this?" Artemis Sr. asked. He had told himself he would stay quiet through the explanation being given to him, but this was important too.

"Yes, he was there when it happened."

Artemis Sr. nodded, shoving any vague traces of jealousy away. For now. He would have to deal with that on his own later.

"There are people out there, a whole world-wide secret community of magicians," Artemis told them, "though they prefer to be called witches and wizards. They use their magic every day, and they even have schools they teach their art in. The nearest is a boarding school called Hogwarts. I was thinking of enrolling."

Angeline spoke up. "Oh, do you have to leave us Arty? Can't you learn… magic," she stumbled over the word slightly, "here at home?"

"If Arty has a gift," her husband said in an informatory manner, "he should learn to use it in the proper environment." He looked at Artemis. "Only if he really wants to though."

"But," Angeline protested, "_magic_? I'm sorry dear," she told Artemis, "I don't disbelieve you, but it is rather difficult to take in. I stopped believing in magicians when I was ten."

Artemis answered her by holding out his palm and gathering a handful of sparks to create a glowing blue light. Even under the scrutiny of the morning sun it shone with its own power.

Angeline muttered a soft, "Oh," and stared at it. "Magic?" she repeated again.

"No tricks, no illusions," Artemis confirmed. "You can even hold it if you like. It's not harmful unless I want it to be, and it will go out only when I want it to… or if my magical reserves drop significantly."

She looked a little hesitant, but held out her hands anyway, determined to trust her son with this new aspect of the universe she didn't understand. Artemis deposited the light into her palms, watching her carefully.

"It's… warm," she finally admitted, switching it between her hands experimentally, "and beautiful."

Her expression transformed and Artemis Sr. rather thought she looked like a child who had discovered the wonders of Christmas. She held it out to him and he took it slowly in one hand, allowing it to float a few centimeters above his open hand. "A magical light?" he inquired of his son.

Artemis nodded and the light faded away. "One of the first things I learned how to do."

"What else _can_ you do?"

"So far? Not much. I can mold the light into different shapes." He demonstrated by calling forth another bunch of sparks and molding them into the form of a rose. "I can create fire," a flame suddenly appeared in front of him, like the flame of a candle, minus the actual candle, "but it takes more effort than just calling forth the sparks. I can basically become invisible and I can heal," he admitted. "Other than that, it seems music affects my magic in some way too, but I don't know what that can be used for." He looked at them. "You seem to be taking this well."

"So do you," Artemis Sr. pointed out. "You're okay with this then, this new ability you just found out you had?"

"I'm still adjusting, but yes. I think it's wonderful."

Angeline looked like she was going to tear up. "Oh Arty, you always make me so proud."

It wasn't until this moment that Artemis Sr. realized his son had, in fact, been somewhat nervous. Muscles that were barely tense relaxed, and suddenly his expression wasn't so blank and guarded. The head of the Fowl household caught himself feeling vaguely bewildered at the thought that maybe Artemis had been seeking approval, or acceptance perhaps? He was only seventeen after all.

Were his attempts at bringing his family together again actually working?

* * *

While Artemis would have agreed that the Fowls were starting to resemble a normal functioning family (according to standards psychologists had set) he would have also pointed out his father had assumed some things which were not true.

Ever since Artemis Sr.'s disappearance and his mother's consequent ignorance of the existence of her only child, Artemis had never sought after anyone's approval. He was an entirely self-reliant individual and he saw no need to regress to childhood tendencies just because he had both of his parents back. He sought no one's approval; acceptance wasn't something a person strove for in the criminal mastermind business.

Lying was a different story. He found it difficult at best to knowingly tell a false story to his mother anymore. He spent the twenty minutes he had been given in perfect silence, coming up with several different ideas of how to explain his magic away while still weaving key elements of the truth into his story.

He breathed a mental sigh of relief when he was done, knowing that his parents had bought it.

Later in the day Holly let herself back into his office, returning from a voyage to a sacred tree. She was buzzing with energy, having planted her acorn sometime that morning and couldn't seem to keep a smile off her face for longer than five minutes. "It's been a while since I last performed the ritual," she admitted. "It feels great."

Artemis decided not to mind when his papers fluttered a little as she glided around the room on her Dragonfly wings. They were both waiting for another call from Foaly. Being in the same room together for ten minutes without arguing once was a record for them and he wasn't going to break it now by talking. She always managed to find fault with something he said.

Eventually something occurred to Holly. Her expression became thoughtful and she stopped flying around the room, hovering three feet off the ground.

"Artemis," she said, "what do you do on the nights of the full moon?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking over his half-finished design with a critical eye.

"Well," she explained, "fairies doesn't sleep on the full moon. We share our history through our magic. Every magical being takes part, but everyone has their own way of celebrating the past."

Artemis set his pencil aside. He swiveled his chair to give her his full attention. "And how do you celebrate?"

"If I'm not working, I go flying. But other fairies do other things. Some dance, some have parties, and some just spend it in the company of their families." She shrugged. "It's not a structured celebration."

Artemis thought about the previous night. He supposed he had been celebrating in a way. "I play music," he said simply.

Whatever he had been expecting, it was _not_ the reaction he got: an open mouth and widened eyes. Suddenly he found himself being pulled out of his office and down the hallway.

"Holly," he began calmly, "what are you doing?"

"You are going to show me," she said. "Where is your music room?"

"Downstairs, second door on the left," he replied automatically. "I don't understand why this is so important."

She stopped walking abruptly and he almost crashed into her. "Music, she said, "is a magic in itself. It is very powerful though, and most can't harness it beyond the _mesmer_. The ability to wield the power of a musical instrument takes a great deal of mental discipline." She looked at him almost accusingly, as though it was his fault he might have a power he didn't even know existed. "As you might imagine, most fairies don't have the patience to learn such an art, but you might have a natural affinity for it."

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. "Why is this so important?"

"A Musician," she began, looking as though she would rather not be telling him this, "is an extremely powerful individual. On par with a warlock, and they can do almost anything."

"Almost anything?"

"As far as I know, manipulation of time is out of a Musician's reach."

"Of course," he nodded as though he had known this all along. "That would require the Musician to have a stronger will than Time itself."

"How did you know?" she demanded.

He blinked. "It was obvious, wasn't it?"

She shook her head and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. "Anyway, the point is, Musicians are rare. If you are one, then you need to learn all you can."

Artemis smiled; he rather liked the sound of that. He led the way to the music room. "Where do we start?"

* * *

Minerva McGonagall enjoyed sending letters to first year muggleborn students. They had more natural curiosity about the way magic worked and were generally a pleasing bunch to teach. They were always eager to cast spells and learn something new. In short, they were every teacher's dream students.

She always got around to writing their letters last because she would then have to visit the families to explain about the wonders of Hogwarts and their child's new found powers. She smiled a little as she scanned the list of names and ages. Abigail Beckham was a beautiful name, she thought absently, the little girl was ten years old. Minerva paused when she reached the 'F's.

'Artemis Fowl II' the registry read, '15 years old.'

She frowned and headed off to Albus' office. She wasn't aware that there could be such late bloomers where magic was regarded, but if it wasn't some kind of mistake then there were preparations to be made. Though she doubted that this particular teenager would be strong (for that must be the only explanation for such a phenomena), every magical child deserved a chance at education.

* * *

The deputy headmaster of the official magic school in Ireland couldn't have agreed less with Minerva. He took one look at his registry, stared, shuddered and promptly crossed Artemis' name from his list. Who would be insane enough to place magic in the hands of the heir to the criminal Fowl Empire?

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked at the name Minerva had given him and smiled reassuringly at her. "We send her a letter of course."


End file.
